Locke's Ailment
by MoogleTerra
Summary: FF6 Locke is sick one day, giving Celes the idea to cook for her friends. Urged on by Setzer's taunting, will our mage knight finally cook a decent meal! R


**Locke's Ailment**

**A/N: Flew in my head whist washing the dishes.**

**

* * *

**

If you were on the Falcon in the last week of fall, before the harvests, you could hear the whiny cries from a thief who claimed to be so sick that one of his friends must keep him aboard until the bug had passed.

"My gods Locke! You can get your own damned soup!" A man with long shining silver locks of hair that whooshed in a flutter as he sped out of the foyer where the thief was resting.

"But! Setzer! Come on!" He stopped for a brief moment to sneeze. "You're being a bloody horrible host!" The thief cried, pounding the armrest for emphasis to his point, only managing dull thuds due to his weakened condition.

Setzer stomped up the stairs to the deck, with a string of curses following him, that floated down to the ears of a certain blond woman lounging on a bar stool. The man let out a cry of frustration when he reached the open air of the deck, scaring many little birds who were flying by in the process.

Celes chuckled at this, knowing very well that her thief friend could be a big spoiled child when he was ill, made her way upstairs after the fair haired gambler, with a wry smile playing on her lips. She noticed that yet again, the man forgot to light the lamps in the passage, making it difficult to see where her tan booted foot was headed.

Once reaching the top, she spotted the gambler, muttering angrily to himself as he maneuvered the airship through some clouds rather recklessly.

"Setzer?" She softly spoke, letting her voice rise enough to reach his ears. He turned his head slightly, seeing the woman standing at the top of the stairs, peering back at him with her ice blue eyes.

He sighed, "Yes, my dear?"

"Would you mind if I took command of the kitchens tonight?" Celes asked, half in her general tone from what seemed like two life times ago, half completely herself now.

The gambler quirked his eyebrow at her, thinking that the request was odd.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I don't think I heard you correctly! Celes? Cooking?" He almost let out a laugh, but glanced at her completely serious face, and let the laugh go away until she left.

"Yes, I can cook! So can I or not?" She pressed, looking a bit annoyed at his reaction.

"Alright, alright. Don't have a fit, my lovely. I just had no idea that any culinary skill rested in your hands! I mean, you never offered before, and Terra and Sabin always cooked up the meals way back when." Setzer explained, letting out a chuckle at the memory of Terra covered in flour, presenting a large roasted chicken to the friends one evening. Ah, what times those had been…

"Well, you'll see tonight then." Celes commented coolly, making her way back down into the ship's nether rooms, boot heels clicking as she descended.

"Oh my, I might have angered the lady." Setzer told himself aloud, before deciding that he should pick up some of their friends for this very odd evening.

* * *

In the kitchen, Celes looked about herself, trying to think of something that she could cook, bake, stew, something! The only thing she ever made on her own was bread, large rolls of dough that she kneaded and beat the hell out of, making them extremely fluffy and soft. That was the only thing that she learned to make, which she learned from her close green haired friend back when they all stayed on the Blackjack, before the cataclysm.

Of course, she would make her breads for the evening meal, but what else? Perhaps a dish from South Figaro? But…that called for several hours of preparation, and according to the clock, she had about three to work with. In addition, the last time she tried, she accidently burned it so black that she forgot what meat that she had even started to make!

The blond plopped down on a stool, head in hand, wracking her brain for anything worth making.

Locke's coughing could be heard all the way across the ship, which was very distracting.

Wait, Locke's sick. What do people make when they're ill? She did not get sick very often, so she couldn't remember right away.

"Soup!" She cried in sudden realization. "The sick need soup for warmth! And it's easy to eat. It should be easy to make too…"

So, the blond started gathering supplies, filling large pots with water, and setting them on the stove to boil, as she cut and chopped vegetables. She hummed a little tune as she added them to the now boiling water, sprinkling in some spices and started washing some meat she found wrapped up in the pantry before chopping that into little bite sized pieces as well, and into the pot it went.

Soon, a smell that floated around the airship made Locke wake up from his fevered slumber on one of the many sofas in the foyer.

"Something smells yummy. I wonder if Setzer's finally going to be nice and feed me." He wondered out loud, rising painfully from under a blanket he stole off the gambler's bed. Locke's attempt failed repeatedly, until at last he was on his feet, staggering across the room to grasp at the doorframe. The thief followed the scent down a hallway or two, and reached the kitchen, where he saw Celes with her hair put up in a messy bun, with a slightly stained apron, beating the life out of a large ball of dough.

"Heh? Celes?" Locke asked, before letting out a sneeze that shook his frame violently. The mage knight looked up, wiping some moisture from her brow as she saw her friend in the door.

"What are you doing?" He asked, coughing again into a handkerchief.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm proving Setzer wrong." She said, simply while putting a flour covered hand on her hip.

"Did he insult you again?" The thief asked wryly, smirking a little.

"Yes! He said that I couldn't cook a thing! Perish the thought." She spat, giving a particularly hard blow to the dough, making it hiss as it sunk down with her fist.

The thief started laughing at how huffy she got over a silly comment from an insane lunatic. Since he was wracked with sickness however, the laughs turned into a coughing fit.

"Hah! Serves you right, thief!" Celes laughed haughtily, turning to stir the soup, which bubbled and boiled nicely, letting puffs of steam rise.

"Don't be mean to a sick person! It's bad luck ya know." Her friend retorted.

Locke seated himself at the large dining table in the middle of the room, leaning heavily on it, brooding for a moment before asking, "What are you making anyways?"

"Some soup of course. And bread to go along with it." She replied, sampling some of the concoction from her wooden spoon.

"It smells pretty damn decent to my nose…I think. I can't really tell, my head's kinda stopped up." He told her, scratching his face.

"I think it's ready. I've still got to get that bread in the oven." Celes commented distractedly. She then moved away from the large pot of soup that continued to bubble nicely, and started pulling pieces of dough apart to set on a pan that once filled, she would put in the oven to bake.

"Can I try some?" The thief piped up.

His answer was the blond ladling some soup into a bowl, adding a spoon to it, and sat it in front of him. She tried to act nonchalant as she watched her friend out of the corner of her eye taste it.

Locke withdrew his spoon, thinking about how the soup was savory, hearty, and had lots of potatoes and meat! Just the way gran used to make.

"This is great Celes! It tastes like the soup my gran would feed me when I got sick as a child." Locke smiled at the blond, then diving in with slurping noises and sniffles.

Even Setzer, who acted wary of Celes's cooking, seemed to enjoy, having finished his entire bowl full. He had picked up Edgar and Terra from Mobliz, wanting them to be present for the ex-general's meal. Terra asked for the recipe after having her share, so she could make some for the kids. And Edgar, being as flamboyant as a king only could, tried to kiss her for doing so well. She gave him a good smack on the cheek with a roll, but still smiled to herself for the compliment.

Setzer and Locke went off the furthest corner of the kitchen, away from their friends all chattering away about bread and the news in Figaro.

"I see my plan worked splendidly." Setzer said, clapping the thief on the back.

"Yup! Great idea getting Celes to make dinner for us, man."

"I just didn't want to cook tonight. At least it turned out well." Setzer replied, turning back to the crowd of fellow Returners in the kitchen. Locke chuckled to himself, because he knew that the mage knight had some ability in her other than singing and hitting men for their flirtatious comments.

* * *

This was pretty fun to write! Any comments out there for me? A review?


End file.
